


Adenium

by ikilledthepaperclip



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 14:57:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6859672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikilledthepaperclip/pseuds/ikilledthepaperclip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mostly Rey-centric ficlets and miscellanea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adenium

_Judging by the syncopated engine hum, the ship’s thrusters were two or three millimeters out of sync—and her drink was cold._

This was her latest mantra; Luke had been supportive of the habit, said Jedi tended to develop it naturally. A simple phrase, a thought—these were just as real, just as solid as a lightsaber hilt. Just as powerful. _Think a thing often enough, murmur it low and soft—like you’re asking a seed to sprout—and eventually it will._

The metaphor had taken her a moment, and Luke smiled sympathetically at the knit of her brow. This had led to their first real connection, as creatures sharing a sacred wavelength, as something approaching two Jedi.

_I forget how the desert—_ his eyes seemed to say, only she realized it wasn’t his eyes. It was him, a cool, misty tendril of thought reaching into the space between them. She wondered if he’d put it out there as a test, or simply because he wasn’t used to the company.

She grinned. _Been too long away from the dust, sandbiter._

There was a flicker of surprise as her thought found him, but then his smile widened and she knew he was pleased. She’d hoped she was doing this right—her only other experience had been under less favorable conditions. She thought back to the violent push and pull in the interrogation chamber, to the way _he_ and his darkness had pried and itched, and she’d be damned if she hadn’t pried and scratched right back.

She could never—would never—do that with Luke, she already knew. She hadn’t been with him a week and she felt his gentleness; if her mind had hands they’d have been shaking—oh, she didn’t want to hurt him. She was so coarse. The desert hadn’t been able to sand her. _Just a rough thing—_

_I like to think I’m not an invalid quite yet. You’re doing fine, Rey._ He was chuckling.

He’d seen—or heard, or read, or whatever it was called when you peered into someone else. Of course he had.

_Sorry._ She felt her flush.

_And you’re not coarse. You’ve grown untended, not unbecoming._  Ugh, his kindness. There was so little of it where she’d come from. And now it surrounded her like the ocean, like the green green worlds she’d seen. So much life and goodness; these were the moments she felt it could drown her like the cactus she was—

_I disagree._ Even his insistence was patient. She tried to keep frustration at bay with a measured breath.

_We called them ‘Kraytbreath’ on Tatooine. Did you have a similar name?_

The change in track surprised her. _What?_

_Sometimes, during the night, a microwind system would pick up. Could go on for hours; you’d barely hear it. But when the first sun rose, there’d be these patterns in the dunes—whorls and designs so intricate you couldn’t imagine how they got there, how they could be untamed and refined at the same time._

_Djinnprints._ She smiled. _We called them djinnprints._

_I like that better._ Half a room away and she still felt his warmth, as though he were at her side. It wasn’t uncomfortable; it didn’t press—again she wondered how something so strong could be so smooth, if maybe it was because he let the desert sand him, the way she never could—

— _if maybe that was one of the lessons he’d failed to impart to his nephew, all choking heat, a sword not yet out of kiln, warping in its mold_ —

She put a damper on the idea as quickly as she could, praying she’d silenced it in time. _The thrusters were out of sync and her drink was cold. Her drink was cold_ and Luke’s eyes were on her but she didn’t feel him at all, couldn’t read him for all the galaxy and—

_Maybe._

The word was so full of sadness she could taste it. It hurt and ached in her, but soft, soft—always soft. She hadn’t known thoughts could whisper.


End file.
